Jacinto's Outcasts: The Story of D Carmine
by escaped.wonderland
Summary: Left behind after the sinking of Jacinto, Srgt. D. Carmine must lead the remnants of his squad across they continent as they fight for their survival.


**Outskirts of Jacinto Sinkhole, 14A.E.**

Choking and sputtering, the gear scrambled through the mud to the relatively dry ground ahead, fumbling to get his helmet off. Once free, he proceeded to empty his stomach and more importantly, his lungs, of the seawater that had forced its way in. Retching, Sergeant Daniel Carmine glanced around from his position on all fours, searching for any sign of his squad. As far as he knew, they'd been right behind him, hauling ass out of the tunnels to escape the pursuing waters. It wasn't unreasonable to hope he wasn't alone.

There was no one in his immediate vicinity, but the sound of gagging behind him told him that at least one other person had made it. Flopping exhaustedly onto his back, he propped himself on his elbows, taking in the welcome sight before him. Two members of his squad kneeled in similar positions to the one he had just occupied, choking up the water clogging their lungs. So both Cassie and Nick had made it, good. Forcing himself to his feet, he trudged over first to one then the other, helping the two to their feet once they were finished.

"You two gonna live?" He asked, picking his helmet back up off the ground, securing it back in place over his regulation length auburn hair.

"Think so, Sarge," Answered Nick Rollock between strained breaths, "Though if my heart stops beating in the next ten to fifteen, I'll be sure to let you know."

Carmine shook his head the private, how the hell he still managed to make jokes after nearly drowning from their own people, he'd never know, "And you?" He asked, turning to look at O'Neil. She looked like shit, blood trickling down her face from a gash above her brow, turning her soaked hair even redder.

"For now, sir," Wiping her hair and blood out of her eyes, she did her best imitation of a reassuring smile, at least, what passed for a smile with the normally brooding woman.

"Good, anyone see McSawley?" Casting his eyes around the semi-flooded clearing, he saw plenty of debris floating around, but no bodies. At least there was that to be grateful for. Meant there was a chance he was still alive, just separated, "And where's Brand?" He hoped the little Pesanga wasn't dead. He'd been right on his heels the entire sprint through the tunnel.

"You two, spread out and find them. At the very least I want their tags. I'll radio command, see if there are any ravens still in the area," Activating the comm. unit in his helmet, the sergeant braced himself against a cracked boulder before calling in, "Control, this is Theta. Two members missing, one T1. Any ravens above Jacinto?"

No answer, just empty air with the occasional hiss and pop of static. Control must have been halfway to the rendezvous by then, "Control, if you read, we are just outside the city. Unsure of our exact location, but I see what's left of the highway from here. Standing by for evac."

"Shit, Dan! You need to see this."

Sighing to himself, Carmine shut down the radio to conserve power before stalking off to Rollock's position. Climbing up a few overturned cars, he joined the Kashkuri atop the hill, eyes widening at what he saw. Even from this distance, he could see the newly formed lake that used to be Jacinto. Even the Octus Tower was fully submerged, no sign of it among the floating debris circling into the sinkhole. He couldn't believe it was gone, the last bastion of the COG, wasted. And by their own damned government. He wondered briefly if this was how the stranded had felt after the Hammer strike. No wonder the assholes hated them, _'Please, God, let Ben and Clay have made it out.'_

"I've got them! Sir! I've found McSawley and Brand!"

Booking it down the hill, the two gears jumped from the pile of cars, their boots sinking into the mud before hightailing it toward Cass's position. Nearly sliding to the ground as he rounded a turn past a smashed Locust barge, Dan's heart sank as he slowed to a halt beside the red-haired gear. Brand Ja knelt over McSawley pumping his chest vigorously before attempting to breathe air into the other man's lungs. As the seconds ticked by, the stout little Pesanga finally quit, bringing his eyes up to meet the sergeant's gaze. He'd always thought all that muscle looked ridiculous on such a small man, but there was nothing funny about the look of utter defeat on the foreigner's face.

"He dead, sah," Grabbing McSawley's COG tags, Brand pushed himself to his feet, stowing them carefully in his belt, "We in shit now."

The Pesanga had described it perfectly. They were cut off from command, had no idea if help was inbound, and if they survived, there was every reason to believe that grubs could have as well. If that were the case, being this close to ground zero was probably the least safe position they could be in, but they couldn't just leave if there were ravens on the way. Times like these, he wished he'd never made sergeant.

"Alright, we can't stick around here. If any grubs made it out of the tunnels we're too vulnerable," Seeing O'Neil squeezing the water out of her hair, Carmine tried to manage a dry chuckle, "And I don't know about you, but I don't feel like freezing my ass off in the mud over night. We'll find some dry ground and cover, get a small fire going. If they haven't sent ravens by morning, we move on to the rendezvous point."

"On foot, sah?"

"Yeah, Brand," He sighed, leaning down to grab McSawley's lancer, pulling the rounds, "On foot. Move out, Theta."

* * *

The smoke from the fire floated high into the night sky, something that any grubs in the area were sure to pick up. Brand had tried to find only long dead branches devoid of moisture, but when you sank a city, dry wood was hard to come by. Hunkered down between two rock faces, the atmosphere around the campfire was somber at best. Everyone had their own reasons to be depressed, whether it was McSawley's death, the loss of their home, or the realization of just how deeply screwed they were. The Pesanga was, for his own part, just happy that he was alive, and that he wasn't alone.

He'd been scared when he found McSawley face down in the water. Sure, he didn't want the gear to die; he was a decent man and had never done any harm to Brand, but it was mostly fear of being alone that kept him trying to force air into the man's lungs. For years he'd been surviving because he was part of a unit, had others watching his back and he watched theirs. The idea of being cut off from command, the possibility of enemies waiting to kill him, and being completely and utterly alone had terrified him. Sitting close to the fire, he rubbed his arms in an attempt to keep warm.

It was only a week or so into Frost, and the air was bitterly cold. Not for the first time, the Pesanga found himself missing the warmer climate of his home country, but, he had a fire to dry his clothes and warm his bones, dry rations that, while not particularly tasty, satisfied his hunger, and his fellow gears to keep him company. Things could always be worse, something that every member of the COG had been forced to realize time and time again.

The squad would survive, Brand thought with a small smile, they'd make it to Port Farrall, rendezvous with the rest of the Coalition, sleep in a real bed, and things would get better. They'd just destroyed the enemy stronghold, after 14 years, the war was finally over, and he could begin to think about a future. He stirred from his thoughts as O'Neil finally lay down with her back against a rock, shutting her eyes to sleep. Looking around the camp, he was surprised to find it was now just him and the sergeant, Rollock having already passed out on the ground a few feet from the fire. Seeing his sergeant made him just a little bit sad again, the man stared blankly into the fire, and he knew he was thinking about his brothers. In this war, everyone had lost somebody, but that didn't make it hurt any less. And Carmine had already lost one brother to the Locust.

"You alright, sah," He said, pulling the sergeant from his reverie, "You sleep too. I take first watch. Wake you if anything tries to slit your throat."

Carmine managed a weak smile in thanks, turning onto his side to join the rest of their squad in slumber. Making himself comfortable against a stump, Brand settled himself in for a long night of nothing, staring into the fire until it would be time to wake Cass for her watch.


End file.
